IT HAS BEEN 58 years – well over half a century – after his death, but Ernesto Guevara de la Serna still lives. No incorruptible saint – in fact the so called “Butcher of La Cabana” for signing the death warrants of hundreds of “war criminals,” read: military officers of the ousted Batista regime as well as informants, and counter revolutionaries – Guevara has gained cult status around the world.
Notwithstanding too, the
late – and still continuing – discoveries of his proven failures and alleged
atrocities.
It was on the occasion of
his 44th death anniversary in Oct. 2011 that I essayed to touch the
Che mystique, thus:
“COMANDANTE STAR on a
black beret capping a frowning, pensive handsome face; left eyebrow slightly
raised; black, long hair waving in the breeze.”
Beyond the image of Che
Guevara pop cultured in millions of T-shirts, posters and decals around the
globe, what do the young and not-so-young know about the man already long dead
– executed on October 9, 1967 – even before they were born?
Essentially, nothing.
So, what fascinates them
to wear that icon, in virtual veneration of the man they don’t even know?
Irreligious blind faith?
The aura of enchantment
around that image of Che known in the whole of Latin America as El
guerrillero heroico is – to Paco Ignacio Tabio Jr., author of the
definitive Guevara: tambien conocido como el Che (Guevara: also known
as Che) – wrought by “the manifestation of a transparency and
supernatural honesty.”
There, arguably, lies the
Guevara mystique.
The photograph was taken
by Albert Korda for the Cuban newspaper Revolucion at the
public funeral of the 81 fatalities in the explosion of La Coubre,
a French ship laden with Belgian arms at the Havana harbour on March 4, 1960.
Unpublished, the photo remained in the newspaper morgue. In 1968, the Italian
publisher Giacomo Feltinelli, researching on the life of Che, found the photo
in Korda’s house, took it back to Italy and made a poster from it. The rest, as
clichéd, is history. The irony not lost in the capitalist success rising out of
a communist “artifact.”
The Che brief may well
read: Argentine by birth, doctor of medicine by education; adventurer and
motorcycle enthusiast, poet, photographer, writer; by revolution defined and
deified.
The essence of Che may
well be in his word: “The only passion that guides me is for the truth…I
look at everything from this point of view.”
By his truth he lived. By
his truth he was executed. Life and death make a universality that finds
relevance to and resonance in the world to this day.
An unshakeable belief in
the people that makes the core value of the true revolutionary: “There is no
effort made towards the people that is not repaid with the people’s trust.”
Vanity
A damnation of the vacuous
vanity of self-ordained champions of the masses: “The people’s heroes cannot
be separated from the people, cannot be elevated onto a pedestal, into
something alien to the lives of that people.”
The masses eke an
existence out of hovels, even as they look up to their heroes luxuriating in
their high-walled mansions. So un-Che, so unheroic, so undemocratic, so
prevalent. And so very Filipino.
Che holds the purity of
the democratic ideal before its corruption by the politics of patronage: “How
easy it is to govern when one follows a system of consulting the will of the
people and one holds as the only norm all the actions which contribute to the
well-being of the people.”
Compare with the Filipino
norm of governance: Off with the people, buy the people, fool the people. Thus,
the first call of the revolution: “People – forward with the Revolution!
Workers – to the struggle! Peasants – organize!”
Romanticism – damned by
Mao as a bourgeois diversion to be expunged from the Chinese Revolution, and
for that matter, from all revolutions – finds a refining, humanist aspect in
Che’s own: “If it were said of us that we’re almost romantics, that we are
incorrigible idealists, that we think the impossible: then, a thousand and one
times, we have to answer that yes, we are.”
The Latino attributes of
intense passion, sentimentalism, and romanticism do not diminish any, but in
fact even enhance, nay, inflame revolutionary zeal. Che makes the perfect
argument: “At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true
revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think
of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality.”
(In college, barely versed
in Che’s life and works, I wrote an essay on Che titled The Romantic
Revolutionary. Modesty be damned, I got a flat 1.0 on that. More importantly,
bragging rights for having already grasped Che’s essence even then. Though my
enchantment with Che started in high school, in – of all places – the Mater
Boni Consilii Seminary.)
Humanism
Che takes the humanist
facet of the revolution further: “Revolutions, accelerated radical social
changes, are made of circumstances; not always, almost never, or perhaps never
can science predict their mature form in all its detail. They are made of
passions, of man’s fight for social vindication, and never perfect.”
Yet another taboo in the
revolutionary movement – adventurism – was taken to the positive plane by Che: “Many
will call me an adventurer, and I am, but of a different type: of those who put
their lives on the line to demonstrate their truths.”
So, Che demonstrated his
truth with his death, something the romantic adventurer in him put thus:
“Wherever death may surprise us, it is most welcome. Our funeral dirge will be
the staccato sound of machineguns and the cries of battle and victory.”
Some object lessons there
for the RAM, the Magdalo, the YOU and what-have-you in the Philippine military
wanting a coup. Moreso, for the current cadres of the longest-running
insurgency in all of Asia.
Che’s thesis on
revolutionary praxis makes one of the most succinct on the subject: “And it
must be said quite sincerely that in a true revolution, to which everything is
given, from which no material returns are expected, the task of revolutionary
vanguard is both magnificent and anxious…In these conditions, a great dose of
humanity is needed, a sense of justice and truth, if we are not to fall in the
trap of extreme dogmatism, of cold scholasticism, of isolation from the masses.
Every day we have to fight so that love for humanity can be transformed into
concrete deeds, into acts that set an example, that mobilize.”
There lie lessons in
revolutions Che had fought, had seen, and in those he did not see: the
Stalinist dogmatism that pervaded the Soviet Union and its satellites, the
excesses of China’s Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, Mao’s cult of
personality, the Khmer Rouge’s killing fields. And, in the current of events,
Xi Jinping taking China to the imperialist road to perdition.
Failure
Before his fatal failure
in Bolivia, Che bombed out in the Congo in the 1965 attempt to start the
conflagration of the African continent that, to him, represented “one of, if
not the most, important battlefields against every form of exploitation that exists
in the world.”
“We cannot liberate by
ourselves a country that does not wish to fight,” Che conceded defeat six months after. A pointed
lesson that it is as hard to start as to stop revolution from without. Lessons
for Che himself in Bolivia, for the USA in Vietnam, and the Soviet Union in
Afghanistan. Lessons still unheeded today in Iraq, in Chechnya, and again, in
Afghanistan. Hasta la victoria siempre – ever onward to
victory – usually captions the Che icon. It was the exhortation that closed
Che’s letter to Fidel Castro before he left for the Congo. It has become the
rallying cry for revolutionaries around the world.
But Che had a more
stirring call for revolutionary solidarity: “If you can tremble with
indignation every time an injustice is committed in the world, we are
comrades.”
Hasta siempre,
Comandante Che Guevara!
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